All Things Come Around
by S. Hart
Summary: Tom Riddle, a young vulnerable boy, falls in love with another. A younger muggleborn that could easily capture the dangerous Tom. The story shapes itself around their romance and the problems they've experienced past, present and future. Currently: 1945.
1. Wiley & Tom

**Title: **_All Things Come Around_

**Author:** S. Hart

**Warnings:** SLASH! Yup, male on male. Cursing, references to violence, maybe even violence. You know, all that stuff.

**Rating: **PG-13

**Why?** There's Tom Riddle, some gay love, cursing, a bunch of Slytherins being Slytherin. Are ya with me?

**Disclaimer:** Aah, it's not mine, it belongs to the mind of the great J.K Rowling who should be yelled at for killing Sirius Black. Well, Tommy isn't, Hogwarts ain't, future references aren't for the most part. Um... yeah. Wiley is mine, and so are the names that are just floating around. All mine!

**Author's Note:** This is pretty much a quick introduction to Wiley and the relationship he shares with our beloved Dark Lord. There will be flashbacks in **_bold italics_** so when you seem them, they are flashbacks! They will be the memories of when they met. Or if I say in the beginning of the chapter in my little note. **_This is a flashback_** It is what it says it is. Now have fun, litte kiddies.

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Chapter 1

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It's 1945, the world is at war with Germany going at the second world war. Then again this was the muggle world, and the wizarding world didn't really care much about muggles at this point. Muggles are the non-wizard folk if you caught that much. Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the rule of Professor Dippet, was in fact ignoring this war started by muggles at a great level of ignorance. In fact, a particular Slytherin fifth year was not following this great ignorance and writing many questionable thoughts down in his journal; a journal no eye would see until much later.

"Aah, yes," was the calm, husky murmur of the young man. His raven feather quill was in the reach of the grasp of white ivories. Sly chuckles rolled off his tongue with such elegant ease, it made him laugh a bit harder, but he was calmed in a short while. He was sitting at the side of four-poster bed wearing the mandatory uniform issued by the school: gray pants, white oxford shirt, tie of the house colours (green and silver in his case), and the long sleeved gray sweater. Also, plain black working robes were worn during the school hours, this in fact was not school hours or he would not be sitting about idly and writing. He would have been in class, he was never one to break the rules of skipping class. His light brown hair had fallen into hazel eyes with a rim of darker brown on the edge, these eyes were plastered onto the opened writing book on his lap. He was of fifteen years, and this was his fifth year being taught the skill of wizardry. He was Wiley Rider, a Slytherin fifth year was the knack of getting into trouble with his simple writing.

No, simple is the wrong word for his work. His work was not simple. His work was difficult, not to write but to understand. Not for you to understand the words, but to understand the man behind the words. People just don't get Wiley when they read the words he writes. He's grown accustomed to it, and he's figured out not to share the works with those that don't appreciate them: the professors. Light eyes darted over to where his text books lay unwanted for the moment, mind forced a hand to pick the top one up and open it. A low groan was produced from vocal chords, and he eyed the page he had to read then answer questions about. "Tom?" his chin lifted, and head turned before he spoke, with eyes shifting over to an older young man in his last year at the magic academy. This young man was of age seventeen, had short cropped black hair that was neatly groomed, and had these dark teal eyes with flecks of gray, sometimes there could be some crimson in them. Wiley figured he was the only one that noticed.

Tom was deep within a book by the time his name came to him. Single brow rose to a perfect arch, while eyes were yanked from the pages he read onto the boy calling for him. He was perched up on top the bed Wiley leaned against. His long legs were crossed at the ankles, and his torso was twisted just a tad so he supported himself with one elbow. His body favored Wiley's side of the bed. "Yes?" he retorted with his cool, silky voice he was best known for. It carried a cold way about it that if produced correctly could permit shivers to run up your spine. This time it was not permitted, not produced in this way. It was given a soft tone to it, one that he used only with this young man leaning at the side of his bed and probably requesting help on the homework he recieved three years back, or maybe it was two? It didn't matter, all that did was that he already correctly answered the questions Wiley had yet to answer, so therefore it was only pratical that Wiley request Tom's help. Would Tom allow? He should see, he should see.

Wiley's gaze had drifted back down to the book, a glazed expression crossed them, and in a soft whisper he spoke again, "I don't like Herbology, Tom." It was a quiet complaint, though not whine. He _never_ whined. Well, never in the sense that it was about disliking to do assigned work. Whining was only essential with one thing and at certain ages. Parents were the one thing, and the age didn't really matter, though it was the timing of the whining. Yes, Wiley had figured this all out during one summer. He gets to be quite bored during the summer holidays. Oh, such an unfortunate child to be bored during the summer break! He did love the summer, but it got tiresome and he figured out things that truly were only meant to be figured out by those in ane extreme level of boredness.

A tiny smirk graced the handsome features of Hogwarts' Head Boy, "And what am _I_ suppose to do about _that_?" It wasn't like he wasn't going to help the younger boy that seemly befriended this hard-to-get man with such ease. He enjoyed the boy's odd sense of humour, cunning responses, witty works, and well of course what he was so famous for at Hogwarts his ability to get into trouble with a simple opinion that wasn't very simple.

The skinny younger man on the ground just gave a helpless shrug. He didn't know. Shoving the books off his lap, he got up looking at Tom, "Take out Herbology with your great magic skills." This comment produced a few hearty, cold sounding chuckles from the older one. It also brought the older one into a sitting postion, though legs still were to the side and arm propped his weight up. Tiny grin flashing on Wiley's face, an idea coming into his head. He stepped up onto the bed, kneeling on it next to Tom with his dress shod feet dangling over the edge. The homework was long forgotten in the mind with only two tracks, the grin still held out... grins never really did on this one.

And the book was long forgotten by Tom, it rested beside him on the other side with it's bookmark in place. When the grin came to Wiley's face, he had realized what was being thought or so he guessed rather close and it wasn't to do with Herbology or any of the homework left undone on the floor to the side of his bed. Wiley was inching closer to him, a sparkle was caught in the eyes of the fifth year. "They should be coming in at any moment," was Tom's warning of the rest of his dormmates. They had been off at a Quidditch match on this Friday evening. Quidditch never fancied either of the two boys, that being the reason why they decided to stay put and not have school spirit, or root for their house's team which was playing Ravenclaw.

Groaning, Wiley stopped his futile attempts at advancing on the boy before him. He sat on his feet in a kneeling position. "So?" he inquired, his head tilted to the side. No one would intially do this especially toward a young man with such strong hatreds, though Wiley did... he jutted out his bottom lip and pouted.

"You're acting like a four year old!"

"So!"

Tom glared at the fifth year boy, but there were only a few minutes left before the other seventh years would barge into the room and start talking with such ehusiasm about the Quidditch game. He moved in, closing the space between them, letting his lips brush against the younger boy's for a brief second, with a satisfied tease, he pushed the boy away, "Scram!"

Wiley was ever so pleased and did just that. Eventually he would get more, he knew it.

**A/N:** Beautiful, ain't it? Good! Anyway, next chapter will be a flashback probably or mostly of one. You need to know the background.


	2. You Always Come

**Diclaimer: **Um... the plot is mine, and a lot of other stuff is mine. But the genre this fanfic belongs to isn't, therefore it's J.K Rowling's.

**Author's Note: **Wow, it's been awhile since I updated. Anyway, here's the second chapter. Whoop-de-doo. School takes a lot out of you, but here. Have fun.

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Chapter 2

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_**Short and rather on the skinny side, was another first year to the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, not that it was wrong, but quite alright. It was September 1st, and all the students were back in school; new ones were nervously waiting to be sorted. They wouldn't expect it be a hat that sang and talked that sorted them. But it was. This new student wore his light brown hair in a bowl cut or mushroom cut whatever you prefered. His hazel eyes were wide and curious, he had a look about him that revealed a mystery that hadn't been cracked yet. This eleven year old waited patiently until he heard his name being called by the deputy headmaster, a burly looking man with a thick curly brown hair, Professor Hub as he would come to be called.**_

_**"Rider, Wiley." **_

**_The boy's head shot up looking at the man that called his name. He staggeredly made his way up there. Head down, though eyes looking through dangling bangs. He took a seat on the stool and the hat was placed on his head. _Incredible thoughts for such a young boy... such thoughts belong in one place... in _"SLYTHERIN!" The house on the far right of the Great Hall burst into clapping, he was one of the few kids to be sorted into the house so far. He moved over that way. He glanced about the table and sunk into a seat next to his classmates. He didn't join in the chatter he just watched everything else._**

_**And that was that, Wiley Rider became a Slytherin. **_

Wiley rushed down the corridor, he going to be late! How could he be late! It was Transfiguration his favourite class, or one of them. He really didn't like Professor Dumbledore, it wasn't his fault. Dumbledore had something against Tom, but he couldn't be thinking such thoughts now, he had to make it to class. And there he was stepping into class five seconds late.

The not so young man looked up at the fifth year from behind half-moon spectacles, gentle blue eyes glistened. "Well, Mr. Rider I thought you must be sick today. You're never late for class." And there Wiley saw it, Professor Dumbledore making accusations about him. He was going to ask next where he was that made him late, _who_ he was with that made him.

"Sorry, professor," came his humble reply as he slipped into the seat beside Sonny Duran, a Ravenclaw he had made friends with to a degree; nothing out of classes, mind you. Luckily Dumbledore didn't ask any questions. He went by not noticing that Wiley's shirt collar had been messed up. Sonny didn't notice it either because he just went on with his work like Wiley did.

Wiley rested his cheek on his hand, and began to get deeply interested in the work assigned by Professor Dumbledore, but Wiley was having a terrible time concentrating. He looked up as the Transfiguration professor began to teach them their next lesson.

Yawning a bit, as he came through the entrance to the Slytherin common room, it had an odd feeling of dampness to it, with a dark atmosphere. Wiley looked around to see if Tom had come back from his classes, the head boy wasn't in the common room. Scratching his head a bit, the fifth year slung his book-bag over his shoulder and trekked up the stairs. At first he wandered into his dorm, dropping his things on his bed. He looked around and saw Bryce Dolosus. "Where you going, Rider, going to visit your _boyfriend_?" was a taunt that most of the boys his age gave him. He was used to it, and the fact that Tom was the most feared student in the school, he was never harmed.

Wiley stared over at Bryce. Bryce could be considered a tough-guy; he was quite muscular and had that tone of authority that little first-years would shiver at. Wiley on the other hand was a scrawny looking kid (he hadn't changed since first year), and could easily be beaten up. Luckily, Tom was around, so he wasn't. "I might, what's it to you?"

His classmate rose from his bed, and strolled over to Wiley. He was quite close to him, and Wiley had to look up to the taller boy. "Because I'm not to fond of poofs in my dorm room," he spat in Wiley's face.

Shoving him away and wiping off the spit in his face, Wiley glared at Bryce, "Go fuck yourself," he spun on his heels, and left Bryce to contemplate that the smaller figure beat the bigger one or something like that. And yes it was in the 1940's meaning one normally didn't use the f word freely. Wiley on the other hand had been known for his choosing of words.

"_**You write this?" fifth year Tom Riddle approached the then third year Wiley Rider. Tom was a handsome boy and all the girls flocked to him. Yet, he had the peculiar interest in a third year that led to a peculiar relationship. He always stood taller than Wiley, and will always. He was about five and half inches taller than him that year. His brown eyes glinted with no trace of that scarlet that grew worse and worse every year from sixth year on. **_

**_The fear on Wiley's face could've been claimed as priceless. "Y-yes," trembling voice marked the fear that Tom Riddle could bring to anyone, a nice trait to have for a future Dark Lord. Wiley couldn't help but stare, he always like Tom, in that non-friend way, if you will._**

"_**It's good," the prefect sat down at the table where Wiley sat. "You're a brave kid to write this kind of stuff." He waved the paper he found. It happened to be one of those stream-of-consciousnesses that was well good? like Tom said. **_

"_**T-thanks."**_

Thundering footsteps brought the fifth year into the empty seventh year dorm. "Tom?" hazel eyes scanned the room for the regal figure on the bed at the far-side of the room. "Tom!" Wiley rushed over to where his 'boyfriend' was. He was a bit angry at himself, for so freely allowing the whole relationship to be not so well hidden. Tom was definitely going to be angry.

He looked over with his life-draining eyes, "What do you want, Wile?" he sat up. The book was shut, and he shifted his body over to the other side of the bed for Wiley to settle himself next to him. A hand was brought to his face, and stroked the younger boy's cheek with a thumb. "What's wrong?"

Deep breathing was the factor that brought up Tom's questioning; Wiley leaned a bit into the hand. The strength of the older boy through the one hand was reassuring to him. Tom was his reassurance he didn't normally get. He didn't talk, he didn't want to and if he did explain what had happened Tom would go storming out to harm Bryce. He crawled up the bed to snuggle into Tom, who wrapped his arm over the smaller boy's shoulders. Tom was protective, something Wiley enjoyed about him. Wiley was about to close his eyes, when he realized that room was empty. "Tom," he began in a whisper, "where's everyone else?"

The older boy hadn't noticed or he did when it was empty at first, then got used to it. "Off somewhere, probably down at the library, or wandering the hallways," the free hand waved about showing he didn't really care.

A small smile cracked the normal placid face of Wiley's, "In other words, you kicked them out?" The smirk on Tom's face only left room for a yes that wouldn't be sounded from the head boy. "Knew I was coming, didn't you?" And that was yet another rhetorical question that was met by a gentle kiss planted on the younger boy's forehead.

"You always come, darling."

_**You call my name**_

_**And I'll be there**_

_**I'll call your's**_

_**And you'll come running**_

_**You are mine **_

_**As I am your's**_

_**Don't leave my arms**_

_**I'll never let go**_

_**Wiley had written that in his writing journal during the summer of his fourth year when the relationship between he and Tom Riddle sprouted. It was an odd match, and he knew it, but there was something about the two that they both needed each other for protection. Tom was vulnerable and Wiley knew it.**_

Wiley pulled back from the kiss, "Mm…" he grinned, looking into the brown, scarlet speckled eyes of Tom. "They're not coming back are they?" he asked, questioning the darkened sky outside.

Tom, who hardly talked, only smirked, picking up his wand from the side-table and made the curtains around his four-poster bed surround them. "They'll come," and on a side note, he added, "later." He put a finger under the young boy's chin, bringing the boy closer, he kissed him again. "Don't worry," was the cajoling voice, and he muttered a silencing spell. It'd be silent to everyone but them.

Wiley looked at him, and grinned. "I'm tired," he pecked the older boy's lips and cuddled into Tom.


	3. From Experience

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the "Intermission" but I was watching Blue Citrus Hearts and the song was in it, and I thought it pertained to the story, so there… sorry if I was teasing you!

Also I'm staying up all night or practically to finish this up. I'm trying to make it long to feed your hunger for the moment.

Thank you Sabrina-Rosalie for your critique on Wiley, I love him, he's on of my favourite made up characters for Harry Potter. In answer to your question, I got the inspiration for ATCA was from my family discussing the possible outcomes of the "final battle" this brought on the contemplation of a new take on Voldemort (which you'll see later) this sprouted somehow into Tom Riddle having a good friend, which ended being his lover (which stemmed from a different O.C character) and then I was reading a few fanfics about Harry/Voldemort, which got me thinking Voldie needs a lover his own age or close to it anyway. Wiley just kind of popped up.

I hope that answered your question… now onto the story….

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Chapter 3

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The days went on without much difficulty. Wiley did his homework, went to class, and met with Tom on the occasions where Tom wasn't doing any of the said things above. It was of course Tom's last year and he needed good grades; well good grades weren't hard for Tom, it was Wiley who had difficulty with keeping up the classes. And this went on for a long while.

Slamming his head down on the table in the library, a groan echoed from the fifth year, Wiley stared at the wooden table but then closed his eyes, wanting to sleep. He hated Herbology! Why did he have to take it? And as if Tom could read minds he spoke, "Only your last year of it," he pulled Wiley's notes out from under his head and scanned them with his eyes.

The fifth-year slipped his head up on his arm and watched Tom read over his notes and mutter something about how it was simple. Wiley wrinkled his nose in disgust, "Shut up," he snapped and grabbed his notebook back. Not only did no one dare to argue with Tom Riddle, head boy of Hogwarts, they never told him to shut up either. The other two Slytherin seventh years sitting at the table with them stared at Wiley out of shock and then their eyes went to Tom to see how he would react. Tom was already known for his temper, and well younger students got the end of it more than his peers. Wiley was a younger student.

For a long while as the two stared at Tom, nothing happened. Nothing at all, Tom just watched Wiley would was staring back with a slightly frightened look on his face. He knew Tom wasn't going to hurt him or anything but when Tom got angry it was pretty damn scary. One could have nightmares if Tom only shouted at you for one little minute. He was a frightening guy. Wiley didn't make any motion to show he was frightened of what might happen he just stared, wanting to gulp or bite his lip or at least slip under the table and get away from the glare. Finally Tom just stuffed his school bag with his books and left the table, exiting the library. All eyes were on him as he left.

The one Slytherin sitting across from Wiley was Cassius Snape, "What was that?" his cold sneer was only present when Tom wasn't. And by the sound of his voice he was getting rather suspicious of Wiley and Tom's relationship. The fifth year hadn't thought it was that noticeable but then again Cassius was a peculiar student. He was always studying, and when Wiley was in first year he had thought Cassius lived in the library.

**_Eleven year old Wiley wandered through the hallways, it was Saturday and he had thought it was a good day to figure out where everything was. Hogwarts was big! He didn't imagine a huge castle to be his school for the next seven years. He had loved castles and such in his days of elementary (what is it in the U.K? I know secondary is high school) school. He ran his fingers over the stone walls a small smile on his face. He had realized Slytherins weren't the ones to be smiling and being over ecstatic about anything. He tried to play the role but he was in a castle! It was a castle! He spotted some older students, and his arms dropped to his sides the smile disappearing. They were fellow Slytherins he had to be respectful. He couldn't tell what year they were in._**

**_It was a group of students, and they all seemed to be following one kid in particular. He was rather tall with pale skin; he had brown eyes that seemed to glow with the anger and power. Wiley gulped and stood there stiff in fright, but the group went right on passed him. Though the boy had given Wiley a look he'd never forget one of pardon or something like that. Wiley never knew why he had been given that look it was just given; it was something like a token of pass into something. He watched as they walked right down the corridor and turned disappearing to a room. Wiley made up his mind and followed them. _**

**_He glanced at the door's label: Library. He shrugged and went in, there were tables in the front of the room while rows upon rows of bookshelves filling up a very large room. The Slytherins had wandered to one table where another one had his head bent over into a book. He seemed rather concentrated on studying this early in the year. Wiley thought he should start studying as well; he didn't want to fail his classes, did he? _**

_**Quietly he walked toward the bookshelves to see more what wizardry is all about.**_

And soon after the first visit to the library came many other, which left visiting the library to being a Saturday habit, and each time the same exact Slytherin was studying. Once he made friends with Tom, he'd soon realized who that Slytherin was: the local library hermit: Cassius, who was discussing with the other Slytherin whom Wiley hadn't met before but got that his name was Jon. Hazel eyes dropped down to his Herbology notes, and wondered if he'd fail the test or not, though those thoughts soon were rested on if Tom was angry or if he just decided to leave Wiley alone as bait for two old Slytherins.

He hoped he wasn't bait.

Clearing his throat and shoving his things into his bag, he looked at the table's occupants, "I'm, uh, going to leave." His voice almost shook from how nervous he was about talking to older Slytherins without Tom near him.

Cassius and Jon looked over at the younger student at the table and didn't even bother saying anything; if anything would leak out to Tom they would have a heap of trouble awaiting them. They wanted to know why Tom protected such a twerp like Wiley Rider. There was nothing special about him, but they wouldn't say anything about that. Their lips were sealed.

Eyeing them one last time to try and figure out what was going on in their heads; he shrugged it off and left the library. He was on a mission to find Tom. His first stop the Slytherin common room maybe he was in there, and plus he wanted to drop off his books; they were a pain to carry around the whole school. He knew from experience.

Actually he knew a lot of things from experience. He knew when to pest Tom and when he was in a terribly bad mood. He knew when to ask questions during classes and not seem like he was being an annoyance. He knew exactly when to ask his mother for something to get what he wanted. He knew when to beg and when not to. He knew when to act silly and when to act serious. He learned easily, he was like an obedient puppy.

The corridors were quiet for once as he traveled the way to the common room; he wondered where everyone was at on this Saturday afternoon. Maybe outside in the snow? He didn't know, nor did he care. He found himself in front of the entrance to the common room. He announced the password in a secretive, proud voice:

"Patefacio!"

The entrance was revealed, and he walked in. The common room was slightly crowded, but no sight of Tom just yet. Wiley never knew of Tom in the common room when it had a lot of people in it. He shrugged it off and ran up the stairs to his dorm throwing his stuff on his bed. No one was there, so he was happy. He walked out and headed for the seventh year boy's room.

Tom was probably in here…

Author's Note: Haha, cliffhanger. Okay, sorry, it'll be updated soon.


	4. I'm Sorry

**Author's Note: **'Allo! Hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger, and I'm getting this chapter out to you quickly so I don't have an angry mob on my hands. wink

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Chapter 4

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Wiley pushed the door open to the seventh year boy dorm, and took a step inside. The room was oddly quiet making the fifth year grow nervous and tremble just slightly. A window must be open he thought to himself, reassuring himself that anything that his mind was thinking was false and that a window was open allowing the wintry breeze of the March day blow through. Hopefully that's what it wa—it was, that's what it was! That was the reason. Wiley was shaking like he always did when nervous; he wasn't that good at faking he was afraid. He opened his mouth and a small squeak came out. He shut it, and eyed the dorm it was empty, but a faint glow of some kind was coming from the lavatory. Brow furrowed and thoughts raced, his writer's imagination took over.

Stepping quietly toward the open door, he peeked in side, and his eyes caught sight of Tom muttering over with his wand held out. He was making some incantation. Wiley's heart jumped a beat frightened of what Tom was doing. Tom was always doing things a little out of the ordinary. On one of the occasions when Wiley had slept in the dorm with Tom he had woken in the middle of the night to hear Tom mumbling things in his sleep. Things that made him grow nervous when he was around Tom. He had never felt nervous around Tom until he heard those words.

_**It was June, the end of his fourth year, Wiley woke up and sat up in the bed. He glanced around looking at the drawn green curtains and remembered he was with Tom. A half-smile crept to his tired face, if he was in his bed he'd know what time it was with his pocket watch ticking away in the side table. He liked the sound of clocks ticking it was peaceful but Tom couldn't stand the quiet tick-tick of his small pocket watch. He had left it in the side table to make Tom happy. It was his first time in Tom's bed for a whole night, and he quite enjoyed falling asleep in the arms of Tom Riddle. **_

**_The smile grew and his eyes looked at the sleeping figure of the sixth year. He looked peaceful and so vulnerable compared to what he acted like when he was awake. Wiley figured people had no choice on what they looked like when they were asleep. Tom's chest rose and fell with the short, shallow breaths he took while sleeping and his pale face somewhat glowed in the darkness. There was no expression left on his features, nothing of anger or of content like there was before they managed to fall asleep. _**

_**The fifth year furrowed his brow as he looked down at Tom seeing that his mouth was moving only the slightest. He talked in his sleep? He would've never had guessed. Tom Riddle talking in his sleep, that was interesting. Wiley wanted to know what he was saying. He turned his body a bit, and tried not move the bed; waking up Tom wasn't his idea. **_

**_Why was he talking softly to himself was Wiley's question, why was he even talking? Wasn't he asleep? Wiley had thought he was the only one that had trouble sleeping during the summer. He leaned forward to get closer to hear what the sixth year was muttering. _**

"_**I want them dead"**_  
"_**They don't deserve to live"**_  
"_**Those…"**_  
"_**Die"**_  
"_**Muggles"**_  
"_**Filthy mudbloods"**_  
"_**Die"**_  
"_**Kill them"**_

_**Wiley sat straight up, his teeth clenched and he felt cold all of the sudden. It had been at least seventy degrees in the dorm, but now it felt like thirty. At that point, he didn't want to be in the same bed with the sixth year. Killing? Mudbloods – he meant Wiley didn't he? He couldn't possibly want to kill Wiley. He was Tom's friend! He shook the thoughts out and got out of the bed. He slipped on his slippers he had taken from his room when he was asked to spend the night. He wished he brought a robe; he shivered and started to leave the dorm. Each four-poster's curtains were drawn back which was a good a thing. The other sixth years didn't know Wiley was in here. **_

_**He left the dorm and went into his; unfortunately Bryce had been the loo and was walking back to his bed. He stopped and looked over at Wiley. "Where've you been?" he hissed. It was obvious that Wiley hadn't been in here since his curtains were drawn back and he wasn't in the bed. He had just walked in. **_

_**Wiley, being a small boy and always was a bit of a coward, bit back his tongue to yell or do something that wasn't very boyish or even Slytherinish. He started for his bed but was blocked by Bryce, "Where've you been?" he was demanding in the soft hiss he made so not to wake the others. He grabbed Wiley's shirt, and held him there. "Where've you been?" came the third demand of the same question.**_

"_**No where."**_

"_**Where've you been?" he growled lowly. Bryce was going for his neck now, but at that instant the door opened and there stood Tom. Tom seemed at first when the door opened a bit bewildered but now angry at the sight of Bryce starting to choke Wiley.**_

"_**Off 'im," Tom stepped forward with his wand in hand. The interesting fact about the matter was that everyone used a whispering voice so not to wake the other students. Tom was included in this. **_

**_Obediently to the prefect, Bryce let go of Wiley and was instantly begging not to be harmed. Tom lowered his wand for a moment to eye Wiley, seeing if he was alright. As if Tom asked him, the fourth year nodded. The older boy turned and left. _**

Wiley had gone to bed, and Bryce's pestering about him and Tom started that night. Now it was almost a whole year since that night, and Wiley was still with Tom for some unexplainable reason. The fifth never told Tom that he was a muggleborn, and it didn't seem to matter now. Tom never asked and it never came up. He guessed it was logic that all or surely most Slytherins were full-blooded therefore Wiley was. That was just a stereotypical thing for Slytherins but if that was what Tom thought what if Wiley said otherwise? What if Tom stopped talking to him? He bit his lip and leaned against the wall beside the door not wanting to see what Tom was doing.

He rested his head back, and exhaled, trying to stop himself from thinking of everything bad that might happen if he does the slightest thing wrong. He can't do anything wrong or Tom might never talk to him again or he might even make him an enemy. He didn't want that. He really liked Tom. He calmed himself down by just resting there.

Looking back through the crack he watched Tom experiment, with different incantations on different bugs. Wiley had now figured out that Tom had an assortment of beetles in jars, and as he said these spells he pointed to a different jar watching how each affected them. He did this on two of the six jars. Three more were already labeled, and the bugs seemed rather ill. Wiley chewed on his lip as he watched, and then there was a shuffling of things. A jar was knocked over and he hid again.

"Come on out," Tom's voice thundered practically, and Wiley heard footsteps come toward the door, "C'mon…" and then slowly he drew out his name, "Wiley."

The fifth year stiffened, and quietly slithered into the room. He looked up at the taller boy, and tried to act like he didn't have an ounce of coward ability within his blood, which was quite hard to do. Tom stepped forward toward the boy, who only seemed to have moved a few inches from the door. He reached over Wiley's shoulder and closed the door. The smaller boy stopped breathing; Tom hadn't left any room between the two bodies as he reached over to close the door.

Tom looked down at Wiley and grabbed the boy's wrist, pulling him gently toward the middle of the lavatory where the sinks were. He looked down at his work; he bent down and cleaned up the mess by putting it in his school bag. He kicked it aside, and looked at Wiley who seemed extremely nervous, "Why did you do that?" he asked, stepping toward the younger student who had stood rather close to the sinks. "Hm?" he brushed Wiley's straying bangs, and tucked them behind his ear. He tilted his head and stared into Wiley's hazel eyes with his brown.

Wiley stared back noticing that there were a few more specks of scarlet in Tom's eyes, he opened his mouth ever so slightly about to speak but the touch of Tom's hand on his forehead made him incapable of speaking at that moment. He stood there staring at the older boy, and finally spoke, "I-I don't k-know," his tremor had come back; it had been awhile since he stuttered around Tom.

"You do know," Tom's voice felt like silk to Wiley's ears, the gentle caressing that was happening in the interrogation. The younger boy closed his eyes for the moment, thinking. He was hesitant to speak to Tom, and if he didn't speak he would hear the voice more. Tom moved closer to Wiley only a few inches apart from him, he leaned his head close to the boy's ear and spoke again, "Tell me, Wiley, you do know."

The voice was in his ears, it made him want to squirm uncontrollably now. Persuasion was a gift for Tom, and something no one could disobey. Wiley was like everyone else, squirming by Tom's voice. He didn't know, and why couldn't Tom accept that. He opened his eyes now, and put his hands on Tom's chest. Pushing him away gently, "I don't know, Tom, I really don't." He thought hard, "I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry." He walked away from Tom, and stood only a few feet away from him. He crossed his arms over his chest, and stood there looking sad.

Tom watched as Wiley walked off, and grabbed his shoulder violently. "Why weren't you thinking?" he shouted, turning Wiley around and throwing him with a push toward the sinks. The fifth year stumbled backwards, and fell hitting his head against the sinks.

Wiley sat up, recovering from the throw. He looked up at Tom, frightened, and he put a hand where his head at hit the stone. Glancing at his fingers there was a sticky red liquid on them, blood. Quickly he stood on his feet, and Tom went for him, Wiley winced wondering what the seventh year was going to do now. Instead Tom had taken his handkerchief from out of his pocket, and put it under the water of one of the sinks. He beckoned the boy toward him, who reluctantly stepped forward. Tom gently pressed the handkerchief against the back of Wiley's head. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean…" he didn't finished whatever he was going to say. He just sighed, and looked at Wiley's newly acquired wound.

Wincing slightly at the cold water touching his head, Wiley stood there relaxed ever so slightly. He leaned back into Tom who was gently fixing up the injury. The seventh year had taken out his wand and muttered a healing spell, "There," he told him, and turned him around. "I'm sorry," he said again. Wiley looked into Tom's eyes, they were truly sorry. And the boy knew that Tom wouldn't tell anyone sorry, but now he knew only he would hear those words from Tom.

"It's okay," Wiley said, and Tom wrapped his arms around him. There the two stood, in the lavatory, embracing each other with a new understanding about each other.

**Author's Note: **Aww… so cute. Anyhoo, I was quick about updating this time. Might be quick about the next one too, but you never know.


	5. Spring Break

_**First Note: **Sorry! I am terribly but seeing how many people want me back I'm back with more of Wiley. It might be awful seeing as I'm having writer's block but I'll try I promise._

_**Second Note: **Yes, the New Year has brought another chapter. I'm completely sorry again. I started finishing this chapter up during break and then I started playing a game and now I'm back on it._

**_Response to Reviews: _**Catalina _– thank you for your comments. I need them and yes, the ones where Harry and Tom are paired off together they are horrible. There might be one or two exceptions but I don't like the whole you have to go back in time crap. Stupid, stupid plots. Though I did like _Abandon_ if you read that one. It was like a guilty-pleasure, something like chocolate. Oh boy. _PageMaster_, thank you for reviewing. I might have updated earlier or decided to mess with this chapter earlier but I didn't think people were reading it anymore, so I didn't. Thank you from reminding me of how much I like Wiley and everyone else does too._

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Chapter 5

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"Mmm…" mumbled a sleepy Tom as he rolled over the room was dark for the most part and seeing it was not even seven in the morning there was no reason for there to be light. It was Spring Break and all of the seventh years had left the school as soon as they could. Except for Tom who's two excuses for staying were that he didn't want to go back to an orphanage and because he didn't want to leave Wiley. The younger boy had woken up at appropriate time for a school day but the half-grunt from his companion made him slip back under the covers and nestle closer to him. Another "mmm" was made and Tom pressed a kiss on Wiley's cheek. "Not yet," was his quiet demand about getting up. It'll be seven-thirty before the two would open their eyes.

The bed made a soft creak as Tom rose from his sleep. "Am I allowed to get up, now?" the younger boy asked looking at Tom's bare back. The fifth year crawled up on the bed, and ran a finger down the young man's spine. "Please?" he added into his ear, as Tom's brown eyes looked back at him. There was a tired wave for the boy's permission.

Wiley left Tom alone and headed for the bathroom. Stopping at the sink, he looked at himself in the mirror; there were dark circles under his eyes. He had neglected to cut his hair for the past month or so, but it didn't really seem to bother him or Tom for that matter. Timid fingers pushed back his hair to where the scar was from two weeks ago. The same sink too, he realized when he looked down. Some might consider Tom to be too dangerous to be with, so was Wiley doing the right thing? Staying with him, leaning on the sink he turned on the water to cold. Technically they weren't together, he just assumed, Tom never said anything about being together… Wiley placed his hands under the water it brought a pleasant shiver down his back.

Turning around, Wiley looked over at the door expecting Tom to be standing there instead it was still closed. The fifth year sighed and looked back at the mirror and the running water in the sink. He cupped his hands and splashed the water against his face when he heard Tom coming to the door, "Wiley?" He looked over once more expecting Tom to enter the lavatory, but he didn't show. It had been two weeks since Tom showed up in this one, he was a peculiar boy Wiley had begun to realize, but he also began to realize that there was no turning back now. Tom Marvolo Riddle dropped whatever emotional shield he had for Wiley, a muggle-born. Wiley dropped his head, would Tom hate him for it? No… Wiley shook his head, "Wiley!" Tom was beginning to become impatient. He shrugged and turned off the water.

"Sorry," he emerged from the doorway seeing Tom already dressed in his uniform. The fifth spotted his clothing all ready spread out on the bed, a smile came to his face, "thanks." He went for his clothes and began to dress.

The seventh year had turned away in an almost embarrassed sort of way. He walked to the window and looked down at the green scenery of the Hogwarts grounds. The snow had long since melted in the early weeks of the month. Tom stood there, until Wiley appeared at his side dressed in the uniform not including the tie and sweater he had left in his own dorm. Tom eyed the fifth year cautiously from the corner of his eye, and then turned to him. "It's time for breakfast," with that Tom turned sharply his school robe making a quick swish and he left the dorm heading for the Great Hall. Wiley soon followed after him but kept a good distance between he and Tom; his peers might find it odd for him walking side by side with the most feared student at Hogwarts. He walked slowly, and Tom didn't notice as he entered the Great Hall.

Wiley soon followed behind and sat at the Slytherin table beside Tom. He began to eat in a silent fashion that covered the table. Wiley picked at his food with a bothered expression on his face that Tom did not care to ask about or he just didn't bother looking at the boy. They ate in silence and neither had any desire to talk about anything amongst each other.

Another fifth year came up to the two, his green eyes looked at Wiley and then took a quick glance into Tom's frightening brown eyes. The curly blonde haired boy gulped and looked at Wiley again, "Hey Wiley, you want to come to the library with me and work on our History of Magic homework?" he asked in a quiet voice that seemed to have came about from Tom's glaring.

Tom's young companion glanced over at him, and then back at his peer, "Yeah, sure Jonas. I'll meet you there in five minutes." And his friend left in a hurried fashion. Wiley turned back to Tom, "I'm sorry, I'll be quick about it. You can do your homework too…" he thought about it and looked at Tom who in his eyes seemed to be quite annoyed. He finished off his roll, and left the table; Tom turned back around and finished his food.

---

At the correct time, Wiley showed in the library which was only occupied by his curly-haired friend. Jonas was another Slytherin that stayed behind during the break and essentially the only other Slytherin that called Wiley a friend besides Tom. They had met on the train coming over in his first year and stayed friends during the years but never quite bonded farther then doing their homework together. He came over to the table Jonas had been seated at for a few minutes with his books. Wiley put down his books and sat across from him, "Alright… so we're doing that paper?"

Jonas nodded and took out a few rolls of parchment along with his textbook. "Doesn't that Riddle guy frighten you?" he inquired as he unscrewed the top of his inkbottle.

Doing the same, Wiley had flipped open his book and started scanning the information. "Well… not really," he bit his bottom lip in a nervous fashion he had adopted from his father. He dropped his hazel gaze to his parchment and scrawled his name on the top with the raven feather quill he had borrowed from Tom not that long ago. His friend gave him an odd look, and dropped his own eyes to his paper, starting to write on it.

The silence that had overcome their dining table had now come to the library. The scratching of quills against the parchment was a sound that had normally filled the dorm when it was just Wiley and Tom but now it was Wiley and Jonas a pair not many people saw together. Wiley finished off his fifth sentence and looked up to see the bowed head of his friend. The blonde curls following forth in front of the boy's face, it was much different then the contrasting colour of Tom's black hair. His peer's green eyes were also much different and seemingly more inviting then Tom's brown eyes with the speckles of scarlet in them. Wiley brushed aside his hair thinking of Tom who probably retreated back to the dorm to read yet another book or work on his own homework. Wiley looked back down at his paper and began to write again.

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Wiley had spent at least five hours in the library writing his paper and chatting with Jonas. He knew he spent a little too long in the library but he'd be spending more time with Jonas next year and the year following. There needed to be a friendship to fall back on when Tom leaves Hogwarts for good. Side by side with Jonas, the two boys returned to the Great Hall where they both sat and ate. Tom had not emerged from wherever he had gone to come to lunch. So there Wiley sat with his fellow fifth year talking about different things. Finishing up lunch, he looked at Jonas, "I've got to go, I'll see you later."

He began to get and gather his things when Jonas stopped him. "Are you going to be in the dorm tonight?"

Contemplating this, he shrugged, "I don't know. I might." Wiley picked up his books and hurried out of the Great Hall. He wanted to know where Tom had gone and why he didn't come down to lunch. Quickly he went to the Slytherin common room wondering if Tom was there. Wiley sighed noticing Tom hadn't come to the common room. He went up the stairs and checked the seventh year dorm. "Tom?" he called out going to the boy's bed and leaving his things on top of the trunk.

He wasn't there.

The fifth year rubbed his forehead wondering where the seventh year had gone. "Tom?" he called again and went into the lavatory, but the student wasn't in there either. "Tom!" he shouted, and went back to the dorm. Another sigh slipped from he, and he crashed on the four-poster. He only hoped his friend wasn't angry. Wiley snuggled his head into the pillow with frustration but the scent of Tom calmed him down and he just lay there quietly.

"Wiley?" a voice penetrated the cloud of sleep that shrouded his mind. Wiley made a soft moaning noise and began to open his eyes. "Wiley?" the voice was clearer in his groggy, homework-ed out mind, it was Tom's! The strong voice registered instantly.

Hazel eyes snapped open, "Uh… what time is it?" he asked rubbing his eyes with one hand while the other kept his propped up. Tom was still standing in front of him with brown eyes staring at him. He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep, apparently working on homework was too much for him or the bed was too comfortable with the smell of Tom on it.

Tom took a seat beside Wiley, and eyed the younger boy, "Seven, are you hungry?" the fifth shook his head, and Tom nodded. He looked away and stared off. Wiley quietly watched him for awhile, there was something about watching Tom think. He seemed to be so involved with his own thoughts he ignored everything and everyone else. Wiley sat there just watching Tom until he turned back at Wiley, "Did you write your paper?"

The fifth year nodded and pulled his legs up against his chest giving Tom some room on the end of the bed. "Yeah, we both finished it. Me and Jonas, I mean," he looked at Tom. "He's a friend," he began, and looked at Tom not knowing if he was jealous or not. Before Wiley had always done his homework with Tom, he crawled over to Tom who put his arm around the younger boy who returned wrapped his arms around the seventh year's chest and they sat there for awhile like that; Tom just thinking over whatever he was thinking, and Wiley with his head against Tom's chest.

Normally, Wiley didn't talk while Tom was in one his contemplating moods, but when the fifteen year old was curious it was hard for him to keep quiet. In a small voice, hazel eyes looked up and the boy spoke, "Tom… where'd you go after I left?"

Tom's scarlet speckled eyes looked down at the boy, "I was studying," he said with a voice that Wiley completely trusted though he didn't at the same time. He stared at Tom, and the older boy stared back. Wiley silently trusted the boy with a nod. Tom leaned down and kissed his younger companion softly on the lips. Wiley, almost too eagerly, returned the kiss. The emptiness of the dormitory of that Spring break opened Tom's acceptance to the odd relationship he held but wouldn't steadily admit. They held the kiss without doing much; it was tender kiss that was almost innocent.

Tom broke away leaving Wiley to watch him curiously as he got off the bed and eyed the clock beside his bed; it was eight thirty. Wiley watched as Tom quietly gathered his pajamas from the night before and left the boy for the lavatory. The fifth year sighed, and gathered his clothing and dressed in the privacy of the large, empty dormitory.

Habits were what Tom had, Wiley had figured out a long while ago. There was nothing that could break the habits of the eighteen year old. The fifteen year old noted this and had given up on many things. Many people would expect after two years of being 'close' to each other, you would've seen more each other then just their school uniform. Wiley was just like every other boy except he was something that condemned in both worlds he belonged to and the same went for Tom. He sat on the bed after getting on his pajamas and saw Tom coming back to him.

"Are you tired?" the Head Boy asked, and Wiley nodded noticing he was even after the long nap he had. Tom only nodded on his way to the other side of the bed. Pulling back the blankets on top of the bed, Wiley crawled on top along side of Tom, who stayed sitting up perched against the headboard of the bed. He would stay up much longer than the fifth year who fell asleep shortly after getting into bed.

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Spring break went by quickly, and Wiley returned to his residence in the fifth year dormitory along with the rest of his fellow male fifth years. He spent time with Tom and studied alongside with Jonas as the O.W.L.s came creeping up. Bryce continued to be a nuisance though not in the presence of a certain head boy.

The Tuesday following Spring break, Wiley lay in his own bed curled up with his eyes shut not really wanting to attend classes that day. As he began to open his eyes he noticed that the dorm was oddly quiet, he picked himself up and eyed the room. There was no one in the dorm. His brow furrowed and he checked the time. It was ten!

Wiley hurried about getting ready and gathering his things. He left the common room as quickly as possible but as he hit the second floor of the castle there was a large commotion. Every teacher stood there trying to get the students in an orderly fashion and away from whatever happened. Wiley curious as ever pushed toward the front of the crowd. What had happened? He scanned the crowd for anyone he knew. Standing there in the center of the crowd he couldn't get any further.

"Wiley! Wiley!" Jonas tugged on his arm, bringing up toward the front where he was. "It's Bryce!" He almost half-shouted.

The fifth year looked ahead and spotted his peer lying on the floor. His face was a sickly, almost pasty white. And there seemed to be thick watery, slime coating on his skin. The nurse had quickly rushed over and was getting ready to transport the boy back to the infirmary while the professors were getting the students to hurry back to their classes. With the throng of students, Wiley walked with Jonas but Bryce's face was still in his mind.

Jonas shifted his books in his arms, "What do you think happened? And where've you been? You missed Herbology… you know… Wiley?"

Looking over at Jonas, Wiley shrugged, "Overslept, and I don't know what happened to him…" he lied, he think he did know what happened to Bryce. Wiley was beginning to feel sick to his stomach.

"Let's hurry to class before there is point deduction," Jonas tugged on his friend's arm once and they hurried along to History of Magic.

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_**Note: **I hope everyone enjoyed the long awaited fifth chapter of ATCA. Sorry, it sounds like a cliffhanger and you guys might have to wait a bit until the sixth chapter. Yeah… it's four and half pages long, so be happy. It's one page and quarter longer than chapter four. _


	6. Out

**Author's Note: **Sorry folks, but I'm back to write you this chapter. Oh and put me on Alert because I don't know when I'll update again, but I will! I'm sorry but that's just how I write.

And just to tell everyone… I'm dismissing some facts that J.K Rowling gave us because I have my own ideas and this was started before the sixth book. I've pretty much got the whole story plotted out to the downfall of Voldemort. :P

Oh and I was messing with Wiley's character and the reason Tom is friends with him is different then what I thought before… so yeah.

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Chapter 6

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"_Tom! Tom!" Wiley burst through the doors of the boys' dormitory where he saw the head boy lounging on his bed reading a book. "Tom..." he approached the older boy's bed, "Tom, what did you do to him?" _

_He lifted those brown eyes with the speckles of red that were becoming more and more clear. He shifted his weight on the bed, and closed the book, calmly looking at Wiley the whole time. "Do to who?" his voice was calm like his eyes were and a small smirk grew on his lips._

_Wiley bit his lip, not liking Tom the way he was acting. "Tom, please, what did you do to _him_…" he paused cautiously looking around seeing no one else he whispered, "Bryce… what did you do to him?"_

_Tom placed his book down and sat up. He cupped the younger boy's chin in his hand, "I don't know what you're talking about. It's wrong of you to accuse me of harming another student." The smirk stayed on his handsome face when he removed his hand he got up from the bed and gave a deceiving smile to Wiley before exiting the dormitory. _

"_Tom!" Wiley twisted about, shouting after him but the head boy was gone. _

Groaning he rolled over, the blanket covering his half-naked body slid off him and onto the floor. The sun was peering through curtains that had crept open over the night. Wiley covered his face with his arm and with the other he reached out for his friend. His hand felt around searching for Tom – who now was a graduate of Hogwarts. "Tom?" his voice croaked and he sat up. Blinking he looked around the bedroom was the same he had been staying there for at least a week and a half. It was simple with white walls and hardwood floor and the sheets on the bed were a pale blue. "Tom?" he repeated getting out of the bed and tossing the blanket back on the bed.

The sixteen year old was a scrawny thing with no muscle or fat on his bones. He was wearing just a pair of boxers he couldn't possibly have been allowed to do that… he couldn't remember. He sighed and found a pair of jeans and a shirt. He dressed himself and left the room of the one-bedroom apartment. It wasn't shabby; the bedroom was small, it had a bathroom and a kitchen with room to put a couch on the other side. "Tom?" he walked into the kitchen to find the wizard standing over the wizard newspaper reading an article.

Tom was leaning on the counter a thoughtful look on his face, and brown eyes looked up at Wiley. "Good morning," he told the younger boy. "You were tired so I let you sleep in," he added this last bit like Wiley needed to thank him.

He approached Tom and smiled at him. "Anything interesting?" he asked, Tom's arm wrapped around the boy's small waist. He shook his head and placed his glass of water on the counter.

The seventeen year-old looked at Wiley and brushed aside the shaggy brown hair. "There's a letter for you on the table," he said pressing his lips on the boy's forehead. "I'm going out for a bit - don't leave here, all right?" Wiley nodded and watched Tom leave.

The door was shut and probably locked just in case. Wiley sighed taking the glass of water Tom set on the table and took a sip of it before placing it in the exact location he took it from. He moved over to the table picking it up he realized it was from his mother. Carefully he opened the envelope and read the contents of it. He sighed putting the letter back down. "Oh well, mum, I'm not coming home," he told the letter and went to go take a shower.

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It was about two in the afternoon when Tom came back to find Wiley reading a book on the couch. "Get out," he growled angrily at Wiley who immediately jumped up dropping the book. "Get out of here, you filthy…" he paused before spitting out "mudblood."

"But I…" Wiley blinked, but he didn't question it. There were times were Wiley was frightened of Tom and there were times where… he simply wasn't. The tension that rippled in the air was frightening in its self. Tom's eyes burned furiously when he looked at Wiley. The sixteen year old moved in a hurried pace and out of the door.

The door slammed behind him when he exited the apartment. "But—" he said again looking at the closed door. What did he do? Wiley would never know. It wasn't like Tom talked to him or anything. He sighed and walked away from the apartment supposing he would have to go home now.

How did Tom find out? The muggle-born walked down the streets until he located the closest train station. From there he took it to where his family lived in Northern England.

"Wiley!" his little sister shouted and sprinted toward him from the yard where she playing hopscotch. She hugged him with a large grin on her face, "Mum's been waiting for you, oh and she made you a chocolate cake."

He took his sister's hand and walked toward the small house where his mother greeted him. He ate a piece of cake while looking forlorn out the window wondering what Tom was doing. His sister, Alice, was speaking non-stop about her new friends and other stuff.

_Wiley sat there on the bed looking at Tom who was sitting not too far away in a pair of pyjama pants. He couldn't help but stare at Tom. He sometimes wondered to himself why he found such an attraction towards the older boy. Maybe he felt comforted by the fact that Tom could protect him or that… he was just handsome. _

_He fidgeted sitting there with his legs crossed, "Tom?" his voice cracked, he hadn't spoken in awhile and now he blushed out of embarrassment. Tom turned around and gave a small smile. He moved closer to Wiley and gently kissed him on the lips. _

_The seventeen year-old pressed a finger on Wiley's lips when he was about to speak again. Tom kissed him once more._

"Did you make any new friends this year?" his mother interrupted Alice's story about her dolly going missing.

Wiley looked up and then thought about it after taking another bite of his cake he shrugged. "Well… I talked to some kids."

"Are you still friends with that Tom fellow?" his mother asked sitting down at the table beside him.

"Yes, mum."

His mother looked at him thoughtfully trying to fit the pieces together of her son's puzzled face. "What's wrong, Wiley?"

"Nothing." He picked his plate up and dumped into the sink before sprinting up the stairs to his bedroom. He collapsed on his bed and thought about Tom. He couldn't help it. Why did Tom not want to be with him all of a sudden? How did he find out? Did he read his letter? No, because the letter was sealed… or Tom could've resealed it… Tom could use magic outside Hogwarts now.

He groaned and rolled over. Well, maybe it would be better that Tom knows; if Tom forgives him that is. He sighed again and fell asleep.

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Author's Note: Annnnd that's all I have for now. I'll post soon, I promise.


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